The Beast You've Made of Me
by QuestionableSexual
Summary: I wanted to be worried, I wanted to be curious, I wanted to question this sudden intense reaction to someone I'd never met, but in that moment, I could only want her. Brittana AU
1. Howl

**A/N: Strongly suggest listening to Florence + the Machine's "Howl" before/while reading. This is heavily inspired by/based on the song.**

Well…fuck.

As force of habit was slamming the trunk I was already cursing myself. My keys were in the bag which was now safely tucked away in my locked car. I looked around, slumped down against my car, and sighed. I pulled out my phone to call my roommate; hopefully she would come get my sorry ass. _Battery too low for radio use _flashed across the display. Technology, what a jerk.

"Okayyy, payphone it is" I muttered, standing straight and shuffling back towards the outdoor mall I'd just spent my whole day trekking back and forth across. Guess I should have been taking note of payphones then. I scanned the mall directory. Of course, there was no payphone symbol. Maybe the bathrooms?

"Yeahh, take a dump, make a phone call. _That _makes sense." A passing old couple gave me and look; I rolled my eyes at them. I headed down to the closest restrooms; Section A. As neared the far end of the mall fewer and fewer people passed me by. The shops were closing, and even stragglers picked up their pace. I turned the corner of the restrooms and rushed over to the payphone booths. I stepped around the cubical, grabbed for the phone and…nothing. There was no phone in either booth. Just faded phonebooks.

"Seriously!? Is this some kind of cosmic scheme to ruin my life?"

I walked out of the restrooms and found the mall already deserted. The thing is, nobody stays out after dark. Not in this part of town. Not at this time of month. I wish it was something as simple as carrying a mace or a taser could protect against, but that would probably just piss them off.

"Shit shit shit shit shit" My heart beat harder as I looked for anyone, an open shop, some safe haven. I checked my phone again. Worthless. Just as I began to feel tendrils of panic creeping through me, I saw the door to a shop shake up ahead. Relief made my legs feel weak, but I rushed over to knock on the door. A young woman pulled the door open, looking very surprised and slightly disheveled. Before I could speak she grabbed my arm and pulled me inside, taking one quick glance outside, she slammed the door shut, twisting the lock closed. The bells over the door tinkled harshly.

"What the fuck are you doing out there? It's not safe!" She shook the door one more time to make sure it was locked and stepped over to the glass jewelry counter. She picked up a necklace and dropped it over her head, tucking the pendant into her shirt. "Why the hell are you out this late?" she demanded, really looking at me for the first time. She's beautiful. Not like Covergirl beautiful, like you want to keep looking at her because you know you're getting to see something special, kind of beautiful. Dark eyes, darker hair.

"Uhh I locked my keys in my car. Last time I wear something without pockets" I tugged at my yellow sundress, trying to joke. I'm a sucker for those dark and mysterious types, but she's looking at me like I'm the mystery, or maybe just stupid. It wouldn't be the first time I'd made that impression.

"Ohhhkay. Well, no-pockets, you can stay in my shop until morning. We should be fine in here." She turned and headed farther into the shop. I followed, letting my eyes wander, it was the antique store I'd wandered through a few times, but never bought anything. We walked past the jewelry up front, the shelves of crystals and new age sculptures and into the bulk of the store with the furniture . The shop smelled like incense and ancient wood, it made me think of the old forests the wooden furniture must have been crafted from. She slumped down on a couch with a sigh, dropping her head in her hands. I perched carefully at the other end, and looked at the price tag hanging off the arm, $8,500. I had no idea how this place stayed in business. I'd never seen anyone buying anything the few times I'd been, and the furniture never changed. Maybe she lived here, maybe that's how she afforded it.

"No that's stupid." I chastised myself. She looked over at me.

"What?"

"Uhh, I was just saying this place has some beautiful stuff," Like the girl staring at me, "Do you own it?" She smiled a little bit, but not enough to reach her eyes. It was a memory of a smile, not a true moment of happiness.

"Yeah. It's kind of running me under," she admitted, "but I'm too much of a fool to give it up. Lucky for you" She shot me a wiry grin, a real grin, I grinned back.

"Guess so."

We sat in silence for a few minutes before all the lights shut off apart from one, lone generator light that flickered on in the corner. I jerked upright, heart suddenly hammering.

"It's okay, they're on a timer," She assured me, placing her hand on my arm. Liquid warmth heated inside my arm below her hand. It felt like my blood was heating up and coursing through my body from that point outward. The previously stagnant room filled with anticipation. I could see the static electricity buzzing and snapping in the corners of my eyes. Some energy between us had burst into being at the touch of her hand, something primal and uncontrollable. And with every passing second, it was growing. I wanted to be worried, I wanted to be curious, I wanted to question this sudden intense reaction to someone I'd never met, but in that moment, I could only want _her._

In the dark I could barely see her dark eyes, pupils dilated. The heat, and definitely the liquid, gathered and pooled lower in my body. Soft fingers wrapped around my arm and urged me forward. As she drew me toward her I felt her thoughts seeping into me.

_ WarmDesireTouchHeatBreatheFe elSmellSkin_, she blinked, my eyes slid shut, my quickening breath stopped. She held the attention of every inch of my body, my pulse concentrated where her hand slid up my arm to rest on the side of my neck. My breath was her breath on my lips. As I became light-headed, she leaned forward and pressed the breath back into me. A kiss. Smooth, gentle, and soft, unbearably soft, achingly soft, painfully soft. When her tongue slid past my lips I wanted to sigh in relief, but nothing about her tongue in my mouth was relieving. Tasting her made images of warm summer forests flicker against my eyelids. I could smell the rich dirt; I could feel the soft grass beneath my feet. I slid my hands into her thick dark hair and lightly scratched the back of her neck. The crescendo of our kisses were palpable, I thought I could hear the pounding of drums, but perhaps that was just the pounding of blood in my veins. Perhaps it was all the same.

Her hands slid the straps of my dress off my shoulders. She left my mouth for my neck, spreading aching desire farther. My toes curled as I slid them out of my sandals. My hands tasted smooth skin under the hem of her shirt. Deft hands released the zipper at my back. I pulled my arms through my straps to let the dress fall around my waist. She kissed the tops of my breasts while unhooking my bra. She leaned back to pull it off and remove her own shirt, revealing perfect breasts. (Seriously, if angels had boobs, they would be hers). She craned her head back as I massaged her breasts and let my finger tips graze over dark nipples. Her exposed neck begged for my mouth, I ran my tongue from the hollow of her throat to her jaw line.

I wish I could say I hesitated, I wish I could say that when I arched my back it was some kind of rationality or reason pulling me away, but as she began mapping the curves of my body with hot wet open-mouthed kisses, every motion was desire. My body strained toward her with every brush of her lips. Strong, beautiful, perfect, hands molded my breasts. Deliciously tan against my pale skin. As her kisses stopped below my navel, electricity started to crackle behind under my skin. Every cell in my body was quivering, shivering, dancing, in anticipation. She slid my panties down and off my legs. I could feel her hot breath right where every inch of consciousness I had left was converging. She paused. Dark eyes found mine as she leaned down, I thought I saw her eyes flash, burning and hungry, before she flicked her tongue out and set my world ablaze.

I blinked once, twice. I felt scratchy material against my cheek. My sundress was askew, my sandals off. I slowly sat up and stretched, and, oh, was I sore. Memories that couldn't be mine came pouring in. Dark hair, wet heat, long, hard kisses. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I slipped on my sandals, found my wallet, and walked through the empty shop. Sunlight peaked in through the windows. It was early still, but safe enough outside. I looked around for _her_, but maybe she was as confused as me. I reached for the door, but it was locked and the bell above it tinkled when I shook it. She walked out of the back and shyly smiled at me, looking up through her lashes. I didn't know what to say, how to feel. I didn't even know if my memories of last night were real, or dreamt. Either way my face burned; I hope the dim light hid my embarrassment.

"Let me get that for you" her voice was a smooth silky sheet of comfort that calmed me. I didn't trust myself to speak so I just smiled back as she reached across me and unlocked the door. I stepped outside and turned to thank her, to ask her name, to ask about this dream, to beg her to dream it again. She lifted her head to meet my eyes. The sun shone into her face and before she could squint, her eyes…reflected back at me. My words caught and my heart jumped into my throat. I knew my face changed because I saw her smile falter. I looked down to see the pendant on the necklace that slipped from her shirt; the silhouette of a wolf, with a dark jeweled eye.

My feet have carried me far away from her and the shop before I choke out a fearful sob. I bite down hard on my hand for fear she may have tried to follow and hear my cries. Not that it matters now. It's too late for me. She isn't a mysterious lover, or some one-night stand. I didn't stumble into the arms of a concerned shop owner. She wasn't protecting me from the night. I wasn't hiding from the hunters, I was being hunted. She was night and she was the hunter.

They call them the Loup Garou, the werewolves.

And I have been marked.


	2. Girl With One Eye

**A/N: Please read alongside "Girl With One Eye" - Florence + The Machine. Think of it from Quinn's POV.**

* * *

You knock on Quinn's door once, but don't wait for an answer before entering. Like most of your Packmates, her home is your home. Growing up like sisters gave you a disregard for each other's privacy. Leading to more than one awkward situation. This time, Quinn is just sitting at her vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. She is a master at hiding her emotions, as any good alpha is, but you know her better than anyone and you have senses that are more than human. You can smell the salt from her tears.

"Quinn, I thought you were getting over that." You place your hands on her shoulders and meet her left eye in the mirror, her right is covered with a medical patch. "You know they don't usually…do well…when they're from mixed blood." Quinn sighs.

"I know. I know it had to be done, but I still think about it. Every day." You know Quinn must be really be in inner turmoil for her to let herself be this vulnerable. She's still acting weird, and the fight that has temporarily damaged her eye just proves it. You aren't the most gentle of species, but Quinn always reminded you more of a fox than a wolf anyway. Always teasing, and sly, but never rough. Always causing trouble, but sneaking away before a fight began. Finally she got herself into some trouble she couldn't sneak away from. It was one time, it was careless, it was enough. Luckily they had a Pack doctor, Santana's father, who could take care of it with discretion. Since then she had become more reckless, flirting with all sorts of boys, much to her parents disapproval, staying out past curfew, running alone. As the alpha daughter, many of these transgressions were tolerated. But you knew the breaking point was coming. And now this fight. Rough-housing was to be expected, but this was a wound inflicted in anger. You have no doubt Quinn provoked the blow. When Finn found the accidental child wasn't his, he broke things off with Quinn and started dating Rachel. Finn was one of the few males in their region and Rachel wasn't even a part of Pack hierarchy. She was part of the lower Pack. Unranked and often ignored. Since Quinn was basically Pack royalty, it was a serious insult, one the rest of the pack couldn't help but gossip about. Though Rachel had grown up with them, Quinn and Santana had known, even at a young age, not to mingle too closely. Quinn had probably approached Rachel and added a literal injury to the insult.

"Why do you even bother with her? She's not even full grown, she's a runt. So what if she's dating that Neanderthal, it's not worth your time. Let her have him."

"This wasn't about him." You give her a sharp look. "It's complicated, okay? I know she's annoying but I can't stand to see her with him. Finn is rough, you know that. I know how to handle him, but she doesn't." Quinn always was a little protective of the runt. She'd call you off just before your teasing would start to prickle tears in Rachel's eyes. Still, you know this is about Finn.

"But really, why are you fighting for him, is he worth that?" You reach toward the patch covering her eye, but she jerks away.

"**I wasn't fighting for him**" Quinn snaps. She stands and glares at you. Even half a glare is intimidating. Despite your friendship, Quinn is your superior, you drop your gaze. She pushes past you to walk out the door. She whispers it just before she leaves, but you know, she knows you can hear it. "I was fighting for _her_."

Great, what the hell does that mean? You groan and throw yourself onto Quinn's bed. You didn't even get the chance to talk to Quinn about why you really came. Last night, something happened that never should have and now you can_ feel_ the human girl's heart beating alongside yours. You didn't mean for it to happen, and you really didn't mean for her to realize what you were. You saw the fear wash over her and you know you fucked up. Royally fucked up.


	3. No Light, No Light

**A/N: Please read alongside "No Light, No Light" by Florence+The Machine. Also I have a tumblr .com.**

Wet leaves and sharp branches slap against your skin. It's almost dawn and this forest path is already becoming gilded. Your breath is hot and jagged, ripping from your chest every time your feet touch the ground. Dirt cakes your bare feet. You have to beat the daylight, but you just can't run fast enough. Your feet are sore, your clothes are tattered. Dark laughter echoes in the forest. Slowly it turns to howling.

Just like every morning for the past two weeks, you bolt awake. The smell of fresh dirt still in your nose, and your bed clothes tangled around your feet. You stumble into the bathroom of the ratty motel. You flip on the water and let it trickle down into the cracked and yellowing sink. You rinse the sweat off your face and stare up into the hollow blue eyes in the mirror.

You should be pissed that your company booked you such a shit-hole, but you're just thankful to be out of Lima. Ever since your _encounter _you've been looking over your shoulder. You haven't seen her. You don't think you've seen any of her kind. When you burst through the front door, heels bloody from running in your sandals, your roommate Tina insisted on calling the police. She thought someone attacked you. If only it were that simple. After brushing her off you locked yourself in your room for two days.

On the third day, you decided it was safe to go to work. After all, she didn't even know your name. And now you're all the way in Columbus. The nightmares still haunt you, but you can usually shake it off as the day goes on. You wouldn't say things are getting back to normal, but shadows aren't making your hyperventilate anymore, so that's a plus. You pull off your clothes and shake out your limbs. You have a presentation today, and a shower is just what you need to wash away your unease.

* * *

_ You really fucked up._ Santana reads the text from Quinn and chucks her phone into the back seat. "Yeah, no shit." While Quinn was dealing with her own drama, Santana was busy sniffing out the girl. The girl who had turned her life upside down. She hates herself for being weak, but she hates this girl more for being strong enough to overcome her. It was only a matter of time before her parents realized what had happened. In her fit of passion, she had channeled everything into this human. Slowly her strength was seeping away, like the edges of a watercolor blending into the canvas. Her mother wouldn't even look at her. Her father told her to leave until she cleaned up this...mess.

She closed the shop during the day and spent her time looking for her _lover._ She could feel her every morning, invading her dreams, stealing the shared memories everyone in the Pack was born with. All it took was a little stalking and a few persuasive phone calls to track her, "Brittany" (she tastes the name aloud), to a dirty little motel in Columbus.

On her way out of town she left Quinn a voicemail, explaining the situation. Asking her to attempt to keep her reputation clean. If getting knocked up by a human was scandalous, falling in love with one was a death wish.

* * *

Just before you hop out, you turn the water as cold as it will go. The icy water is better than a caffeine boost, and you let it pelt you for just a few seconds, before you quickly shut it off. You wrap yourself in a towel and swing the bathroom door open. The only thing more shocking than the cold water is standing in your hotel room. She is here. She is _here. She _is here. You must whimper because she turns.

Your back hits the wall. How did this room get so small? How did she get so close? You spread your fingers wide against the rough paint, trying to absorb anything that is solid, anything that will keep you grounded, whole, and here.

"Can't you just leave me alone? I can't sleep, I have nightmares, I'm always looking in the shadows. Look around, "you nod towards the dingy room, "Look at what you've done to me." You haven't quite met her eyes yet, but she hasn't taken hers off of you.

"What _I _have done to _you_? How about what you have done to **me**?" She doesn't raise her voice, but you can hear the growl as she steps closer. "You lost yourself in front of my shop. You knocked on my door. You came into my life. I didn't have a choice, but you did." She steps closer and closer to you, her anger and your fear growing exponentially. "All you had to do was tell me no. Now I'm bound up in this..." she gestures from herself to you, "this mess. I gave up my power for you for one night, and you have destroyed my whole life." She slams her hand against the wall next to your head. You flinch. She's so close her breath is washing over your skin. You can feel her anger like a tidal wave, crashing against you. She tears long holes in the wall when she drags her hands down until they are just above yours. You choke back a sob when she presses her body against yours. Her hair tickles your chest. A tear falls from her cheek to yours. It burns. "Please say no," she whispers against your lips, "Please, just let me go." Her voice cracks and finally you meet her eyes. Blue of an ocean, brown from the earth, and not an inch between the two.

"I can't."


	4. Between Two Lungs

**A/N: I apologize for the jumping around of tenses and perspectives, it's something I've just been playing with, so please let me know if it disrupts the flow from one chapter to the next or if it keeps things interesting. tumblr: QuestionableSexual twitter:TodayPerhaps  
**

"**Between Two Lungs" – Florence+TheMachine**

"God-fucking-damnit!" Santana exclaimed, pacing just outside the hotel door. Things were _not_ going as planned and it was becoming apparent this _situation_ was far more complicated than she could have ever imagined. She had left Brittany inside sleeping off their sexcapades while she came outside to formulate a plan. But after having what was probably the greatest sex of her life, Santana's brain wasn't functioning at top capacity. Brittany had some pretty impressive endurance.

_I wonder if she's a runner? _Santana pondered, but before she could work up a nice mental image of a sweaty Brittany in a sports bra, she heard a light crash from inside the room.

Santana swung the hotel door open only to see a perfect perky little ass and its matching perfect legs hanging out the window. She sighed.

"Nope. Nope. Nope" She grasped Brittany's thighs and pulled her back into the room dropping her unceremoniously on her ass, its perfection be damned. Brittany sat on the floor pouting next to the bent screen she had ripped from the window. "You're going to have to pay for that. you know." Brittany just crossed her arms and looked stubbornly at the ground.

"If you're going to eat me, just get it over with already."

Santana couldn't resist. She quirked an eyebrow and let the corner of her mouth curl up in grin. "Wanky, babe, but we already did that. A few times, actually." Brittany harrumphed and a genuine tear traced her cheek when she looked back up. Santana's heart cracked a little, caught by the watery deep blue of her eyes.

"I'm serious!" Brittany stood up and began pacing the room. "I've been living in fear, you know. Every night I wonder if when I wake up you'll be there. Sometimes, like in the middle of the night, I bolt awake and I can _feel _you there, but I flip on the light and nothing…" she tangled her hands in her hair and collapsed back onto the bed. "And these damn dreams, it's like they're so real-"

"They are." Brittany looked Santana, but she just shrugged. "They aren't dreams, they're memories, I accidentally gave them to you the first time we…well…you know." Santana made a "V" with her fingers on either hand and jammed them together a few times. Brittany rolled her eyes.

"Okay first, we did not do THAT, and second, what the hell do you mean 'memories'? And how do I remember _your _memories?" Brittany sat up on the edge of the bed and Santana came to sit in the chair across from her. She tried to ignore the way Brittany's eyes followed her knees as she crossed them. Sighing she tried to figure out where to begin.

"Well they aren't really _my_ personal memories, they are more like collective memories from the Pack- but, alright I'm getting ahead of myself here…" _How can I explain this without being as confusing as fuck?_ "Well okay, you've heard of the loup garou right?" Brittany's look said _Seriously?_ "Okay, so obviously you do because the scary eyes, and the running, and the crying-"

"But what are you _doing _here? Why are you _following_ me?" Brittany asked with exasperation, her hands tangled the bed sheets in frustration. Santana debated on trying to explain the subtle intricacies of the transfer of power.

But Santana had never been one for subtlety.

"I'm in love with you."


	5. Rabbit Heart

**A/N: Sorry the last chapter was so short I wanted a different song for this scene. Also expository material will come slowly. "Rabbit Heart"- Florence+TheMachine.**

You're not sure why you agreed to this. Up and leaving from everything and everyone you know to live with a stranger. A dangerous stranger. As you empty your closet into your worn green suitcase you wonder if you're even in control of your own actions anymore. And does it matter anyway? Santana is not only more powerful than you, but she has some kind of power _over_ you. Her dark eyes whisper secrets to your soul like a snake charmer plays his flute.

Three days.

She gave you three days to pack your whole life away for God knows how long. She said you needed a full moon to complete the ceremony that would seep the power back from you. She said it was the only way to get both your lives back. She said you would be safe with her.

She also said you didn't have a choice.

* * *

"Oh, and Brittany," she leaned into your car in the hotel parking lot. You met your own frightened eyes in the reflection of her aviators. "Don't even think about running. I _will_ chase you." You swallow hard, and not trusting yourself to speak, you nod. "Good girl. Hurry home now." She places her hand on your shoulder for just a moment and it's a shock that electrifies your core. If she feels it too, she doesn't show it. You can't help but watch her walk away in your rearview mirror. The way her skirt slides across her ass as she walks makes you think of the shift and pull of sheets over bare skin. You take a deep breath and place cool fingers over your eye lids.

What delicious flavor of hell have you bitten into?

* * *

You told Tina you were getting a job promotion and you were being shipped off to the corporate offices in L.A. for training.

"But don't worry," you told her, "I can still split rent and everything." Tina smiled and congratulated you. You tried to say _save me_ with your eyes, but Tina's smiles deflected your silent pleas like a force field of naivety.

"That's great, Britt, I'm so happy for you! I'm going to miss you though!"

"Thanks, Tina, I'll miss you too."

Santana said all your bills would be taken care of. When you asked about work, she just grinned and said she arranged everything. You're sure her smile looked a little wolfish, but maybe that was just your imagination.

* * *

"Welcome home." Santana throws open the French doors and you are stunned. You've never even _visited_ anywhere this nice. Especially not in Lima. You know you're gaping, but, really there's not much you can do to control it. When Santana said you'd be living in their guest house you imagined a rugged shed out by the pool. Maybe a redesigned garage, at best. But this is a full size one-bedroom home. The refrigerator even has one of those little ice dispensers on the front.

Briefly, you think this may have been the best decision you've ever been coerced into.

"What do you think?" Santana shifts from foot to foot anxiously. You've just been standing in the doorway staring for a good minute and a half.

"Uhh, yeah, it's, um, gorgeous and you, like, have an ice machine and this carpet is _really_ soft, like, way softer than my bed. And there are plants indoors and my mom always said that rich people have plants indoors, but I don't think the herb garden in my kitchen counts…" you know you're rambling, but a soft grin plays at the edges of Santana's mouth.

"I thought you might like it. Here, let's get your stuff inside," You both reach for your suitcase handle at the same time and when your hands graze you realize that for all the beautiful things in this house, the most beautiful thing is standing just inches from you.

And giving you serious "_fuck me"_ eyes.

You start to lean towards her, drawn like a moth to the flame of her succulent lips, which she flicks her tongue across to wet. But suddenly she pulls back and you see the blood rush (from wherever it _was_ gathering) to color her cheeks.

"We should probably try not to, you know, have the… skin to skin contact." She sounds as even-toned as always, but you can see her eyes shade. She's remembering some other "skin to skin contact". You share a stare for a moment longer before she shakes her head. "Ah okay, well, I'm going to leave you to this, just, uh, call my cell from the intercom if you want me-er-well, youknowwhatImean." She blushes again and bolts before you can even respond.

You move your few things in and admire the antique furniture. Next to the high tech appliances it gives the home a certain steam-punk feel. You lie down on the leather couch and flip on the flat screen TV to some trashy talk show. The little people on the screen claw and fight with each other, trying to claim someone as their man or deny someone as their child.

You know these people have their claws and they are very real and very dangerous. You have never considered yourself a brave person, but that all has to change. Starting right now. You mustn't seem weak or fragile. You build your resolve and don't let yourself forget.

No amount of silk drapes or expanses of polished marble can make this place anything more than what it is.

A cage.


	6. Heartlines

Santana stood in front of the door, pulled on the hem of her shirt, and readjusted her ponytail for the fourth time on her walk over to the guest house. _I don't know why I bother, it's not like I have to try to impress her, _she chastised herself. But not without smoothing the front of her shirt one last time before rapping firmly on the door. Footsteps rapidly approached the door before stopping just short of opening. Santana tried not to laugh imagining Brittany rushing to the door, then trying to pretend she hadn't.

After a moment Brittany pulled open the door with a smile. Still slightly breathless she greeted Santana with a soft "Hi,"and stepped back to let her inside. Suddenly a heavy bass started blaring from the speakers in the living room. Brittany's face dropped and she rushed to shut it off, but not before Santana could recognize the song.

_Hey over there, wanna know just how you-_

Brittany blushed furiously as she jammed the power button to the stereo. Santana just quirked an eyebrow at her.

"I though I turned that off," she muttered to herself. "Don't judge me okay? Brittney Spears is really good." Brittany attempted to justify herself, but Santana just let her grin grow a little wider. Guiltily, she felt her confidence grow at Brittany's embarrassment.

"Sure, Britt, whatever you say." Brittany just looked even more disheartened and Santana chuckled.

"We're name twins."

"You're what?"

"Name twins. She's Brittney Spears and I'm Brittany S. Pierce." Santana narrowed her eyes at Brittany trying to gauge the seriousness of her confession. When Brittany didn't crack a smile Santana laughed even harder. "Whatever," Brittany muttered, a little wounded. "I still don't even know your last name." Santana stopped laughing and looked at Brittany seriously. She stuck out her hand.

"Santana Lopez. Nice to meet you." Brittany giggled she shook her hand. Before either of them had a chance to reason their fingers entwined and Brittany's hand slid up Santana's arm reading the soft Braille of goose bumps that rose under her touch. Santana shivered before pushing Brittany away and glaring. "Stop that! You know we can't"

"Not to sound like a sex maniac or anything, but I'm hot and you're hot. You practically forced me to leave my home, you could at least let me have a little fun," Brittany turned and sat down hard on the couch. Santana followed her and perched a safe distance away on the arm. "I mean I guess you _love_ me or _whatever_" Brittany punctuated her last statement with a roll of her eyes. Santana took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists. This girl was driving her crazy and she has barley been here a day.

"I didn't say I love you, I said I was _in _love with you!"

"That doesn't even make sense! That's the same thing!" Brittany crossed her arms across her chest and sighed in frustration.

"It's not. Have you ever had sex like this before?" Santana asked. Brittany waited a moment, but finally shook her head. "That's because it's not_ just_ sex. Every time we make that connection my power, my essence, gets more tangled up in yours and becomes harder and harder to separate." Brittany didn't look her way, but Santana could see her shoulder relax. "Essentially I have given you a part of myself, my deepest self, and it draws me to you. What else is there to being in love?" Brittany softened and gave Santana a sympathetic look. Santana didn't meet her eyes, and continued to fiddle with a stray piece of fabric hanging from the arm of the couch she straddled. "I mean, I can't really love you. I don't know anything about you…except that you're probably a sex manic."

Santana was thankful for her quick reflexes that knocked the pillow Brittany threw at her out of the air before it could hit her in face.

* * *

"So when do I get to see inside your house?" You ask as you take a wide birth around the back of Santana's sprawling home. You look up at the two story behemoth with its long elegant pillars that span the length of the house. The house is so perfectly white it hurts your eyes in the afternoon sun. Small black shutters adorn the windows like freckles on porcelain skin.

"You don't." Santana began to walk faster, leading you through an extensive backyard. Every blade of grass was the healthiest shade of green, every tree and bush trimmed to perfection. You can't see any houses in either direction and the trees started to thicken into forest toward the back of the property. You take one last look at the house before jogging to catch up with Santana.

"But I'm going to be here for months, possibly, I mean, what if I need something?"

"Everything will be provided in the guest house." Santana steps around the base of the largest tree in the yard. A massive oak, its branches droop with age and dip toward the earth. Santana sits on the ground, back against the trunk, facing the forest. Her lack of hesitation and the way she sinks down right between two jutting roots makes you realize she must sit here often. She stares into the forest. The sun peeks through the leaves on the tree, full and green in the midst of Spring, to dapple and dance across her skin. You pick out a spot against the truck and sit as well. It takes you a moment to find the perfect not-too-close, not-too-far place to her right.

"Brittany, you have to understand. This situation… it's less than ideal. My family is... very powerful. They have more money and influence than you can imagine. To them, this is a blemish on the face of everything they stand for. The politics within the Pack…"Santana trails off and shakes her head. "Dignity is everything, and in their eyes, humans are…" Santana shrugs and looks away. She doesn't want to say it, but you understand. Nothing about this is Santana's family supporting her in a complicated situation. This is her trying to claw her way out of dangerous territory. "I just…I can't say too much. But you can't go in the house. Everyone is trying their best to pretend you don't even exist. And trying to make them live in a reality they don't accept is _not_ an option."

"I'm sorry I didn't know." You feel the weight that has surely been heavy on Santana's shoulders drop onto yours. You've never been one to carry around a heavy heart, and despite the gravity of your situation, you aren't going to stop now. You pluck a yellow dandelion growing in the shade of the tree and use it to tickle Santana's arm. She takes it with a smile and an airy almost-there laugh. She smells it, even though you know it has no scent, before tucking it behind her ear.

"Anyway," she says, her voice already lighter than a moment ago. You smile to yourself at your tiny victory. "My Abuela said that we can help this 'untangling' process along through meditation. You just have to relax and think of your soul or life force or whatever, and try and separate it from everything else. Like build a little wall around it." Santana stops and blushes. "I mean that's what Abuela says, but you know, she's from the old country and pretty much insane."

"No way, I love meditation. I used to do yoga all the time."

"Yeah?" Santana looks a little less embarrassed

"Totally. I also used to have this awesome detox crystal. I bet that would have helped." You kind of wish you had it now, but after Tina found it in the toilet tank, she said it was gross and threw it away. You just wanted keep the toilet cleaner.

"Well this is where I come to chill out when things get too hectic back at the house so…"

"Let's do this thing."

You're not sure how long you sit out by the big oak with Santana, but you do try really hard to meditate like she said. When the shadows are long and the sky is fading to orange you take a break and look over at Santana. Her eyes are closed and she's leaning back with her head resting against the trunk, face tilted up, trying to gather the last streaks of sunshine. Her hand is resting over the hump of a root, not too far from where yours is sitting on top of your crossed-legs. You decide to put all this meditation to the test. You lift up just your pinky until it brushes lightly against hers. You feel warmth, but not any uncontrollable urges. Santana doesn't pull away so you hook your pinky around hers and chance a look at her face. She hasn't moved, but you notice her lips have tilted up in a small, but content smile.

The tree bark scratches your back and the grass tickles your legs. The wind dances through your hair and leaves you with the smell of growing and earth. The sun blazes its last moments in the sky. And you do feel the urge to kiss Santana. And it's not because of any human-garou bond. Or the entwining of power. It's because it's the end of a beautiful Spring day and an equally beautiful girl is sitting just next to you. A girl with secrets and scars that you don't quite understand yet, but you think you want to find out. You think that her lips are probably the only thing that could make this day any more perfect.

And that's not a feeling you can meditate away.


End file.
